


1940: "Out Late"

by reserve



Series: Two Boys At Play [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bottom Steve, Bucky Is Really Obsessed With Steve, Dirty Talk, I Don't Even Know, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jesus Christ I could Write HOURS of Porn About These Boys Send Help, Light Dom/sub, Like Really Really Obsessed, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:48:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reserve/pseuds/reserve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is out late; Bucky's just about to lose his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1940: "Out Late"

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Christmas! Here's some very shameless smut. Many thanks to [robokittens](http://archiveofourown.org/users/robokittens/pseuds/robokittens) who read and re-read this with me, and offered up a lot of encouragement to make it even pornier.

So Steve’s out late. 

So what?

So what if Bucky's spent the whole night rolling around in his own head pretending not to care. Normally he'd just take himself out. Never did need Steve to have a good time, not really. Normally he'd go out, find a girl, show her off, take care of her, take her home done right … 

But he's in real bad shape tonight. Can't put his finger on it, but tonight he's _sure_ that Steve's out having a good time of his own, and he shouldn't care. Doesn't really care. Would never say he did, ‘cause Steve ain't his, and good for Steve if he's getting a little. On the side, or. Or _not_ on the side, 'cause Steve ain't his.

So what if Bucky is stewing.  And stewing so hard he's at a full boil. He drinks some of the rotgut their downstairs neighbor still brews up, and he tries to read some, flips through his old _Popular Science_ magazines. But he keeps seeing Steve on the page instead of words. Even the goddamn _Lone Ranger_ can't hold his interest, and that means he's in trouble.

The later it gets, the darker his thoughts turn. By midnight it's an angry spread of mental images, and that spread ain't kid friendly. He knows what he and Steve have going ain't exactly kid friendly either, but they're not kids anymore, and even when they were, Steve had him real hard up, crazy for it. Whatever the hell it is, just his hand anywhere on Steve is enough to make him dizzy, mean, and wild. _Jesus, Mary and Joseph,_ even thinking about Steve makes him feel a mess. Soon he's sitting on their couch with the jar of petroleum jelly in one hand just kind of waiting. Tossing it back and forth.

Then he hears Steve on the stairs and feels a devilish need to see if he's right, to see if Steve’s actually been stepping out. Except not stepping out, not really, ‘ _cause Steve ain’t his_. The second Steve's through the door, though, Bucky is on him. Doesn't offer a word of warning, doesn't heed Steve's indignant "what the hell?" Just hauls him practically over his shoulder, and stomps off to the bedroom. Steve aims a kick at his groin, but Bucky dumps him down onto his own bed before he can cause any damage. 

"Take your pants off," he says. 

And Steve looks startled, maybe a little bit wary, maybe even a little drunk with how bright his cheeks are. And Bucky knows he's looming and knows he shouldn't tell Steve to hurry up, but there's some kinda sickness in him when it comes to Steve and he can't. He can't stop.

"Get down on all fours."

Steve glares at him reproachfully as he gets into place but he does as he's told because _God_ , he'll do just about anything for Bucky when it comes down to it. Can't seem to help himself just like Bucky can't seem to stop asking.

"You look so good like this, you know that? Anyone ever tell you how good you look on your hands and knees?"

"Only you, Buck."

"That right?"

Steve snorts and Bucky pounces, suddenly certain Steve's been making time with _someone._ He's not in the mood for cheek, even though it gets him hot under the collar like nothing else. He's already got a couple fingers on his left hand slicked up, got a little bit eager when he heard Steve on the stairs, so when he parts Steve's ass and takes a good look at his hole—just to make sure, just to be certain no one else has been there **—** he's ready to get inside Steve himself.

"Promise?" He circles Steve's dusky pink asshole with his pointer finger, toying with the edge just a little, dipping the tip of his finger inside. He's kneeling on the bed just behind Steve, and Lord but the view is sweet. 

"Scout's honor."  
  
"You're the world's worst boy scout, Rogers. What else you got?"

"On my mother's grave," Steve hisses when Bucky slides his finger in up to the second knuckle. 

"Better apologize to your poor ma." Bucky pushes his whole finger all the way in real easy, in and out, and then again. He has to choke back the petty flare of anger, even though the feel of Steve's body gripping him makes his eyes roll back a little. "'Cause you seem pretty loose to me. Like maybe someone got here first, got you ready for me."

"Ain't nobody **—** "

Bucky slaps the side of Steve's thigh and Steve looks over his shoulder with the kind of face he pulls right before he hauls off and punches someone. Bucky grins. 

"Ain't nobody but you, Bucky," Bucky parrots back in falsetto. 

"Fuck you," Steve tries to say, but Bucky crooks his finger just so and the expletive tapers off into a low moan. "Jesus _fucking_ Christ." Steve presses back against his hand, begging for it.

"Ah ah ah," Bucky chides, pulling out completely. "Don't be greedy."

"Bucky!" Steve glares at him again and Bucky makes sure he's looking when he brings the finger that was just inside him up to his nose and inhales deep. Steve drags his teeth over his plush bottom lip and looks like he's going to come right then and there. 

"Least you smell nice and fresh." He sniffs again and Steve's breath hitches. "Guess you're telling the truth after all."

"God _yes_ ," Steve says, pure conviction, and drops his head down between his skinny arms. 

"Listen to you, so fucking honest. You need it real bad, huh?"

He can almost _hear_ Steve's scowl. Bucky spits on the tip of his finger and rubs the glob onto his middle finger too. The sound makes Steve _whimper_. Bucky shakes his head, smiles to himself. He's pleased as punch. 

He holds Steve's asscheeks apart with one hand and trails damp fingers from tailbone to balls. He and Steve's asshole get on like a house on fire, best friends since childhood. It's like second nature with Steve, easier than with girls by a long shot. Bucky's always known the right places to touch, and seeing Steve's asshole flutter, all pure need, makes him uncomfortably hot for it, too. Makes _him_ feel greedy, like he is for everything Steve's got. Bucky takes a steadying breath, and pushes two fingers into waiting heat, feels his own body shiver with want. 

So _tight._ Steve is so, _so_ tight around his fingers, and the smooth pink glide, the way Steve's hips shift back to meet him, the soft flesh behind Steve's sac where his thumb finds a warm home, it's almost more than he can take, almost at the edge of his self control. That's what Steve does that the girls he takes out never can: Steve pushes him straight up to the precipice, makes him sweat, makes his heartbeat roar in his ears. Steve makes him relentless. 

"Bucky, Bucky, Bucky," he’s saying over and over; a thousand iterations of his name, desperate, filthy, and toe-curlingly good, the sweetest balm to his ego. Whatever he might get up to, Bucky knows Steve's never said anyone else's name like that.

"Whaddya want, Stevie?" he slurs, so far gone he can't keep his vowels from slipping deeper into Brooklyn. 

"You'll say no," Steve says mournfully. He looks over his shoulder and pouts, his cheeks all flushed and blotchy red. 

"How could anyone say no to that face?"

Steve mutters something.

"Aw c'mon. Can't know if you don't ask." Bucky twists his fingers for emphasis. 

"You just wanna hear me ask," Steve says on a gasp. 

Bucky's fingers find that rough spot inside him and rub at it, insistent, all pretense gone. "Damn right I do."

"Jesus, Bucky. I want you to do me, all right? Can you please," he pauses, groans, "can you please just _fuck_ me?"

"Ain't I already fucking you?" He grips Steve's hip with his free hand, pressing his groin in real close behind his wrist, gets his knees on either side of Steve's and lines up the backs of Steve's thighs with his own. Moves against him, then, in time with his thrusting fingers. 

Steve makes a low, frustrated sound and pushes back harder towards him; a dare, a challenge. His only reward is Bucky's big fingers tightening on his hip, hard enough mark. 

"Tell me how bad you need it," he says, practically rubbing himself against Steve. It's unfair, he knows. Doesn't care

"So damn bad, Bucky. You're killin' me."  
  
"Not good enough." He makes a slow circle with his hips tugging Steve along with him and his fingers follow the motion. 

"I'm not. What do you..."  
  
"How'm I supposed to know what you need if you're not more specific?"  
  
Steve swallows audibly and Bucky can see him flush a deeper red, either from embarrassment or arousal. The color comes all the way down his pale back, and it makes Bucky feel the same darkish rush he gets when Steve bruises nice and pretty.  
  
"I need you to fill me up, Buck. It's not." He chokes out a little broken sob. "It's not enough, ok? I just."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"God, I just _need_ you dammit."

Bucky's temperature spikes, and his fingers speed up. He feels the babbling bubble up in him, can't stop it from spilling out all over Steve, can't stop himself from humping against Steve's scrawny thigh, stupid and desperate. He can't shut up. He hates himself. He can't stop.

"No one can do you like me, ain't that right baby? _Nobody_. I'm all you need.”

Steve stumbles through a series of _yeses_ and _dear gods_ in reply, and it only eggs Bucky on. 

“You love this, you want this all the Goddamn time. Made for it, ain't you? Made just for me. Jesus, they made you just for me. And you're mine. Touch yourself. Go on, touch yourself, Stevie."

Steve's shoulders slump when he wraps a hand around his dick, and Bucky manages to curve over him, get even closer, get his mouth right up behind Steve's ear, still talking. Still full of it, so close to bursting. Steve interrupts his litany with a high keening sound, and Bucky realizes with heated satisfaction that Steve hasn't been able to touch himself until now. 

"That's right, there you go. Come for me, ok? Come for me while I've got you like this?"

"You too," Steve whines, gone stupid with it. "Not without you, Buck." His body clenches on Bucky's fingers, three now, held close together. 

Bucky laughs husky near his ear, mouth on the sweaty back of Steve's neck. "Don't worry about me, baby." He grinds his hips a little harder. He's close, it's true, but Steve's never seen him come before. Not really. And he won't this time either. Steve can't see his face like this. 

"Take it out at least. Please? Will ya? Lemme feel you a little. Just a little?"

Bucky heaves a deep sigh and scoots back.  He drops his hand from Steve's hip to his buttoned up fly, takes another deep breath and pulls himself out, his fingers gone still inside Steve, but it's no matter, because Steve is doing a sure job of fucking himself on Bucky's hand. 

"Alright," he says, shaky, then he spits on his palm and starts to pull on his own dick. Steve makes a gratified sound, low and guttural. 

"Please, Bucky? Please please please," he says, wrung out, and fucking back onto Bucky. His asshole is so open, stretched so sweetly, it would be so easy to slip inside him, to take him like a girl, pour into him, make him sigh. The whole bedroom smells like sex and sweat; it makes Bucky dizzy.

"I don't think I can. I...I don't wanna do that to you, Stevie. Can't go all the way, baby. It's too much." He's babbling again. Steve's whining, pitched high and needy. 

"Touch me with it, please? Don'tcha want me?"

Bucky growls. "Too much. Go on and come. C'mon, come for me. Lemme hear you. You know I wanna hear you."

One tortured sounding "Bucky" and Steve is shuddering against him, his asshole clenching tight around Bucky's fingers, his whole body seizing up with release. He flops forward and Bucky's left momentarily out of sync, but the sight of Steve's hole, gaping just a little between his scarce asscheeks, wet and glistening and a little bit raw looking, makes his eyes go wide. His orgasm is shocking, and he spurts with unexpected force all over Steve's ass, semen splattering across pink tinged skin, landing on his waiting asshole, across the rim and just inside and Steve tightens up around it, holding in what he can, sobbing gently. Bucky has to stop himself from diving forward and shoving his face into Steve's behind. He has to swallow down the pulsing urge to eat his own filth out of Steve's puffy hole. 

"God, Bucky. _God_ ," Steve breathes out. 

" _Stevie,"_ Bucky says, voice breaking like a stupid teen. He collapses down next to Steve and they stare at each other for a long moment. "You don't know how bad I want you." He reaches out and brushes Steve's sweaty bangs off his forehead. "It's like burning."

"I don't mind," Steve says, all tender. 

"Well, least that's something." 

"C'mere." Steve scoots toward him. They don't really cuddle but Bucky feels bone tired and fond. He feels loving. He pulls Steve against him and tucks his face into the crook of Steve's neck, relieved and purged of all the darkness that overtook him before Steve got home. 

Maybe, he thinks fleetingly, Steve should stay out late more often. 

**Author's Note:**

> What should Bucky do to Steve next? Let me know in the comments! And feel free to follow me on the ol' [tumblr](http://reserve.tumblr.com)


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